E-mail: mistressofthedark@seductive.com
Pairing: Angel(us)/Willow...sort of.
Rating: Hmm. I'm really bad at this sort of thing. PG-13 maybe? There's no swearing really, just evil thoughts. Angelus is all about the torture and the pain.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story. The plot is mine, the song (In Your Eyes) is Peter Gabriel's so I don't own that either. If I did, I might have more money...but not nearly as much fun, or rampant plot bunnies in my head.
Spoilers: Sort of vague ones up to mid-season four Thanksgiving.
Distribution: Who on Earth would want it? If you do, just let me know and I'll give you permission to have it. I'm not even sure *I* want it.
Feedback: Yes please? This work represents several firsts for me. I finished something, it's a songfic (something I didn't think I'd ever do), and the only time I've ever done something entirely in first person. So I'd appreciate comments on how I'm doing.
Song lyrics are denoted by lack of capitalization and ~~~ marks.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
As much as I hate to admit any similarities to the pansy, souled version of my glorious self, I can't avoid this one. Even as Soulboy pines and longs for his golden Slayer, the love of his pathetic unlife, I pine for my wondrous Witch. She is everything I could possibly desire: intelligence, beauty, cunning, and a hidden dark side just waiting for my touch to bring it to the fore. Bring it to the surface so that it can blossom and flourish like a black baccara rose whose velvet petals gleam dully in the moonlight with a deep red tinge hinting at their original hue. Ah, the wickedness and cruelty I could teach her, if only Soulboy wasn't in control so that she could be...persuaded to let go of her inhibitions. But no, I have to be subjected to *Angel's* morals and he would never *dream* of taking and corrupting the purity that is Willow. Well, except the nights that *I'm* in control that is. A devilish smirk affixes itself to my demonic visage as I remember all of the nights that I've bombarded my 'better' half with dreams/fantasies/nightmares of taking and teaching the witch.
Ha. It appears that my persistent musings about the redhead have caused Soulboy to turn to outside noise in an effort to drown me out. As if that's ever worked before? He's put on the radio for a change instead of one of his boring classical pieces. How unusual. He must realize that classical music isn't going to drown me out; it's only going to make me complain loudly. I *lived* through all of the Classical Period of music. I've heard 'classical' music on and off for 200 years or so, I'm *tired* of the stuff. Especially since it seems to be the sole type of music that Mr. Brood deems appropriately somber and depressing for his guilt-ridden soulful sessions of self-flagellation. So he's switched on the radio instead...hmm. And it's not a classical station, demons rejoice! Cordelia must have been the last one to listen to the radio and had it set on an all-80s station. What is this song...Peter Gabriel? Hmm. This might be worth a listen...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
love I get so lost, sometimes
days pass and this emptiness fills my heart
when I want to run away
I drive off in my car
but whichever way I go
I come back to the place you are
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That's just what happened with Soulboy you know. He drove off in his overcompensating for inadequacies convertible and left that blonde Slayer Bitch (I say good riddance and the only way it would've been better would have been if he'd just killed her like I wanted to instead of leaving). And now he spends much of his time wishing that he was back by her side. But I'll let you in on a little secret. He's not quite as separate from me as he'd like to think and he's been affected by my feelings for the witch more than he realizes. The Slayer wasn't the only one he was running away from to escape his inability to be close to people without losing his precious identity for mine.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
all my instincts, they return
and the grand facade, so soon will burn
without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
But sometime, I don't know when & I don't know how, but sometime, he will slip up again and the facade that is the soul will go up in a puff of smoke and I'll be free once again. In an effort to make it burn sooner rather than later, I'll continue to tempt him and reach out from the inside towards his destruction and the attainment of my glorious Witch.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
in your eyes
the light the heat
in your eyes
I am complete
in your eyes
I see the doorway to a thousand churches
in your eyes
the resolution of all the fruitless searches
in your eyes
I see the light and the heat
in your eyes
oh, I want to be that complete
I want to touch the light
the heat I see in your eyes
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I've seen that light you know. The light takes on many forms in her eyes. The light of intelligence, of lust, of love, and perhaps above all, the light of goodness. For me, the possibility of her looking at me with that light and the heat of passion, which I've seen her turn on that miserable wolf as I watched while trapped in a body which is rightfully mine, is an idea I contemplate with great delight and expectation. For Soulboy, who remains rather unaware of the feelings he's inherited for Willow, the light has a different meaning. It's a quality he erroneously attributes to the Slayer. The light is one of compassion, understanding, and it emits a sense of home that Angel feels drawn to without truly knowing why. The light and heat in her eyes are the epitome of salvation and redemption to him. He unconsciously yearns for them through her forgiveness and understanding and that's why he's been so careful to keep as far away from her as possible, up to the point where he refused to thank her for the return of the soul to *my* body because to thank her would necessitate getting too close to her. She might have taken it as a gesture of friendship and gotten closer to him than he's comfortable with.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
love, I don't like to see so much pain
so much wasted and this moment keeps slipping
away
I get so tired of working so hard for our
survival
I look to the time with you to keep me awake
and alive
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Although I normally revel in the pain of others, the pain of my beloved causes me no joy if I am not its originator. I saw, through the soul's eyes, her pain and anguish when the mutt callously left her for 'her own good'. Two weeks after the mutt left, Broody went to Sunnydale supposedly to watch/stalk the Bitch and I was obligated to go along for the ride, as I always am. The pain of betrayal and loss were so evident in her eyes that I had an uncharacteristic urge to comfort her, followed by the more normal desire to turn her pain into a cold rage to be unleashed through the torture and death of its instigator. Every so often, I get tired of constantly railing against my fate. Stuck in my own body without any control over it in a misty gray landscape that lacks any distinguishing features. You have no idea how boring this perpetual London fog truly is. There aren't even any distractions like those that the real London provides to divert attention from the poor weather. It is at times like these that I give my souled half a brief respite and I imagine a future with Willow and I as its star attractions. A future where Soulboy is no more, Slutty is dead (permanently this time), many other irritations have been disposed of in amusingly creative ways, and Willow is firmly by my side as she is meant to be. These times are what renews my determination to be rid of the pesky soul as soon as possible. She is what drives me to persist with my sly innuendos and the funneling of my feelings about her to the souled part of me. Because sometime, sometime he will finally become as obsessed with her as I am and will be compelled to her side. The compulsion will end with perfect bliss, the soul will be a thing of the past, and she will finally be mine and mine alone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
and all my instincts, they return
and the grand facade, so soon will burn
without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside
in your eyes
the light the heat
in your eyes
I am complete
in your eyes
I see the doorway to a thousand churches
in your eyes
the resolution of all the fruitless searches
in your eyes
I see the light and the heat
in your eyes
oh, I want to be that complete
I want to touch the light,
the heat I see in your eyes
in your eyes in your eyes
in your eyes in your eyes
in your eyes in your eyes
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The song ends, sending me further into a quiet, contemplative mood, which surprises Soulboy. He's always surprised (and suspicious) when I get quiet. And I think and I dream of the sublime evening when I am free. Until that happens, I impatiently await the time when the facade burns and I will finally be able to touch, corrupt, and shape the light in her eyes.